


The Best Laid Plans

by TheFeanarion



Series: Stars always come in sets of four [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventer!AU, Feanor is awesome, Melkor is a creep, Multi, Take Your Fandom to Work Day, They're all crazy, eventing, first multi chapter fic, insanity reigns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6757435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFeanarion/pseuds/TheFeanarion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fëanor is bored, Melkor needs to get a horse off his hands, Fingon and Ecthelion both need Young Rider horses... What can go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got a friend of mine to beta!!!
> 
> The first chapter takes place a little over five years before "Congratulations"

Six months. Six months since Fëanáro had ridden a cross country course. Six months since he had sat on a four-star horse. He couldn't take it any longer!

He couldn't help but wonder at how unsuited he was for retirement. Couldn't help the slight jab of jealousy that wound through his heart as he paced the barn aisle for the thousandth time, only for his grey eyes to glance across the drive to see his beloved Silmarilli, silver coat ablaze in the sunlight, grazing in her paddock without a care in the world.

How could she be so content with her well-earned leisure when he couldn't take another second of idleness?

Yes, he could agree with Nerdanel that he probably too old to start another one from scratch as he had done with Silmarilli and her mother before her, Palantiri.

But what if he found one that was already almost there? One that was just on the cusp of greatness and needed only him to guide it along the last few steps?

Nerdanel was against it. As worried as she was about him getting hurt while working with one of the homebreds, she was just as worried about him taking an unfamiliar horse out on an upper level course.

Of course her arguments couldn't stand when Fëanáro received a call from the Angband Stud. More precisely, from Melkor himself, pertaining to the upcoming sale of the seven year old Le Lione CCI2** champion, Gothmog.

"I'm putting him on the market in two weeks, but I can hold off if you want to come out and give him a try. I know you're more of a mare kind of person but once you get on him you'll be in love! Oh, why am I selling him? Well you see, Mairon's a good rider and all but nowhere near the caliber that you are, and Gothmog deserves the best! Just imagine, in a year and a half you could be doing a four-star together! An assertive rider like yourself might even be able to aim for another Grand Slam! Now that grey mare of yours, Silmarilli, if you could send her over here I bet I could find a stallion and breed her for you."

Fëanáro sighed in annoyance.

"Winning the Grand Slam is something that can be accomplished but once only. And I will never send Silmarilli anywhere! And besides, she is too old to be carrying her own foals. And for your information I have already gotten several promising offspring from her via embryo transfer, so I have no need of you meddling in my breeding program!"

Having thrown his "protective parent fit" as Nerdanel called it, he got back down to business.

"Now, regarding this horse of yours..."

 

One week later Fëanáro, along with Maitimo and Makalaure (it was decided that it would be a good experience for them), found themselves in the main barn at Angband, watching as a groom tacked Gothmog up. The glossy black horse seemed intent on trying to eat the groom despite his head being secured in cross ties. 

It being November, the barn was mostly enclosed and all of the horses were wearing heavy blankets which covered them from the backs of their ears to their tails. Fëanáro and his sons were likewise bundled up in heavy jackets, Maitimo even had a fur lined cap covering his red hair. Standing next to Fëanáro, was Mairon, Melkor's main rider/boyfriend (weather permitting).

"I started doing dressage in a double bridle since we moved him up to the two-star level, and he goes like a dream in it. But as for jumping I have to keep switching up between a gag and a pellham, with both reins. Keep him guessing, you know."

At this Fëanáro stared at the tall ginger with his most authoritative look.

"What about regular flatwork? And what if I do something below a two-star? How does he go in a loose ring snaffle (a very mild bit)?

Mairon just smirked,

"Just wait till you get on him."

Gothmog was soon tacked up in a jump saddle with a black and orange fleece quarter sheet thrown over his back for warmth and a bridle with one of the suggested bits. Mairon had taken hold of the reins and lead him through the barn to the attached indoor arena.

Mairon was the first to get on him as was customary. Meanwhile, Fëanáro was quietly critiquing his riding to the very amused Maitimo and Makalaure. It was just at that moment when Melkor decided finally come out of his heated office and see how his potential customers were fairing.

"Well what do you think so far?" Melkor asked leaning in towards Fëanáro conspiratorially.

Fëanáro carefully leaned away and said in a decisive tone.

"I am very eager to get on him and feel for myself what he's like."

At that Melkor nodded his head sagely and then catching sight of Maitimo and Makalaure standing warily off to the side.

"Ah! These handsome young men must be your sons!" He said, playing with his long black hair and looking at Maitimo in particular with an almost too friendly expression. 

And then as an afterthought, remembering Fëanáro, who was by now glaring daggers at him.

"Although, I had been under the impression that you had more." 

"Yes, but Nelyafinwë and Kanafinwë were only ones whom Nerdanel and I thought would benefit from being taken out of school for a week." Fëanáro stressed the "being taken out of school" part.

Thankfully, Mairon had finished up by now and was leading Gothmog over to where Fëanáro was standing.

"There, all yours. Do you want me to set some jumps?" Mairon said in an almost bored tone eyes narrowing as he caught Melkor staring at a bewildered Maitimo, and then. "Shouldn't you be in your office? " he almost shouted at Melkor.

"Wait, why." Melkor looked up with a startled expression.

"I thought you were expecting a call."

"Oh yeah! You're right. Thanks Precious." And to the relief of everyone involved he turned around and strode back to his climate controlled cocoon, but not without winking at Maitimo who was by now paler than usual.

Fëanáro looked at Mairon with grudging admiration as he buckled his helmet on.

"Thank you, but I will have my sons set the jumps." And then turning to them, "just put up what we had discussed earlier. Several warm up fences and nothings over 1.20m".

At that Maitimo and Makalaure almost sprinted out into the arena to begin setting up the jumps. Mairon just sat back and observed.

Fëanáro began by walking the large, coal-black horse around and preforming several lateral movements flawlessly. Being satisfied with that he then asked Gothmog to trot. They trotted around for several minutes before Fëanáro had the horse repeat the lateral movements that he had gone through at the walk, led yields (moving sideways off the riders leg whilst looking away from the direction of travel), shoulders in (moving with the hind legs in a straight line but the front end facing the inside), haunches in (the front end moving in a straight line but the hind end moving on an inside track), and half passes (like a led yield but facing the direction of travel). After running through these to his satisfaction, Fëanáro then asked Gothmog to shorten and lengthen his stride, first in small increments but eventually progressing to the coiled spring of a collected trot and the immense power of the extended trot. Throughout the warm up, Gothmog did as he was told with flawless results, but Fëanáro could feel the energy of a thousand furnaces beneath him, waiting to be kindled.

Having been impressed by his trot work, Fëanáro shifted his outside leg back and lightly squeezed with the inside leg. Gothmog then took the cue and jumped into the canter.

Fëanáro remained sitting in the saddle as he had the horse run through several different patterns that were found in tests as he asked for Gothmog to lengthen and shorten his stride throughout.

Seeing that Maitimo and Makalaure were almost done setting the jumps, he then stood up in the stirrups and allowed Gothmog to have as much of a galloped as was possible in the small area. As he came around a short side, Fëanáro asked him to collect his stride and went to change directions, preforming a lead change. After repeating the exercise going the other direction, Fëanáro walked over to where Mairon was standing, watching Fëanáro with a look of thinly-veiled hero-worship.

"Is there anything I should know before I jump him?" 

Mairon gaped at him and then, upon hearing the question, shook himself and answered back.

"Um, I don't think so. He almost never behaves this well with me but just stay on your guard."

"I intend to."

With that, Fëanáro walked out to the center of the arena where Maitimo and Makalaure were standing, jumps having been set.

"What do the two of you think so far?" Fëanáro asked quietly.

Maitimo considered carefully before answering , brows slightly furrowed in concentration.

"He is a nice horse and very talented, although he looks like he would need a firm hand at times."

Fëanáro nodded approvingly before turning to Makalaure, who stood watching Gothmog with rapt attention.

"He's beautiful! If you get him can I flat him? Please Dad!" Makalaure's pleading grey eyes looked up at him.

Fëanáro chuckled. Makalaure was quickly starting to develop a fondness for hotter, more excitable horses as he had a talent for calming them down.

"Let's see how he behaves over fences, then we can talk about it... If you promise to try bulking up a bit." Fëanáro said, glancing dubiously down at Makalaure's wispy figure, black hair in a mess despite being ridiculously straight.

Having gotten their opinions he picked up a collected canter and easily jumped over a small vertical.  
He did the vertical several more times and then cantered the other jumps which were set at the same height.

Having jumped the small things (no bigger than 1m), Fëanáro let him walk while the boys put those jumps up. 

Fëanáro was very interested to see how Gothmog behaved himself. The horse seemed to obey him without much question, but all the while he felt like a great monster, a will of its own and simply humoring the mere mortal who dared challenge him. 

Jumps being put up, Fëanáro brought Gothmog into the canter, he went once around the arena to wake him up and approached the first jump, a 1.10 oxer, and being pleased with that, proceeded to jump different things at random to make a sort of course.

The feeling was incredible! Gothmog flew over the fences with the inevitability of a rocket ship. He snapped his knees up with the speed of a striking snake. And his hind end was like a trebuchet. Every now and then, he would flip his tail or toss his head as though to remind Fëanáro who really had the power here.

Fëanáro was grinning uncontrollably, he was positively elated! He decided that he could live with Gothmog's condescending attitude. And when he walked up to Maitimo and Makalaure, he could tell that they were thinking the same. Makalaure looked like he wanted to run up and hug the horse, but thankfully he restrained himself to giving a more dignified pat on the nose.

Maitimo seemed to be sizing Gothmog up.

"He could probably get the end stall next to Himring and be turned out in the paddock near the house, unless you want him away from the house so that the Ambarussa don't try anything."

Fëanáro smiled at their enthusiasm.

"We can look at paddock arrangements when we get home, but first I need to find a vet to do a pre-purchase exam." And then bending down so that only Maitimo and Makalaure could hear him, "and a blood test".

 

Two weeks later Gothmog was settling into his stall at Formenos, already terrorizing Himring (the large liver-chestnut was usually pretty territorial, but he seemed to have met his match) to the amusement of everyone but Maitimo who had gone into mother hen mode.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is chapter two!!!

It had been a year and a half and true to Melkor's word Fëanáro and Gothmog were at their first four-star competition together. The Rolex Kentucky Three Day Event.

The sun shone brightly in that first weekend in May. The breeze was gentle as it whispered over the lush bluegrass carrying with it the scents of horses and competition. During his morning exercises, Gothmog would often raise his head and stare off into the distance with the foreknowledge that something was going to happen.

During the first horse inspection spectators and columnists alike gushed over what a marvelous pair the two of them made. Fëanáro, in a classic black tux, short black hair combed back and ruby earrings to offset his pale complexion. And Gothmog, coat gleaming like oil at night, amber eyes glinting dangerously and a perfectly polished bridle sporting a ruby bedecked browband.

When Fëanáro and Gothmog jogged down the lane they moved like a well oiled machine, muscles rippling and movements fluid as water. Two spirits of fire captured momentarily in a casing of flesh.

The next day much of the same was said about their dressage test. Every movement fluid, yet precise. Forward, yet perfectly in control. And when the score was calculated no one could claim to be even the least bit surprised. It was not every year that someone managed to score below a thirty, and yet it wasn't every year that a test like that was seen.

At the end of the day on Thursday, Fëanáro and Gothmog were in first by ten points where they would remain, even after the Friday rides went.

When Fëanáro and his family were walking back to the barns, (Fëanáro and Nerdanel each had an Ambarussa riding piggy back, Makalaure was leading Gothmog, and Tyelkormo and Carnister were racing each other back while Curufinwë yelled at them to stop acting like morons) Maitimo came around the corner to intersect with the mob. 

At Maitimo's shoulder walked a boy with wavy black hair and sapphire eyes that seemed to constantly be smiling. Maitimo had a slightly worried expression as he caught sight of Fëanáro, but he couldn't help but keep grinning stupidly as the boy kept on talking, oblivious to the growing tension.

Maitimo looked to Fëanáro.

"This is Findekáno, he wanted to come and pet Gothmog. I assume that won't be a problem." Maitimo said in a clear voice as he put a hand on Findekáno's shoulder.

Fëanáro turned to look carefully at the boy before not quite shouting.

"Aren't you one of Nolofinwë's?"

"One of Nolofinwë's what? Pet turtles?" Findekáno answered, smirking up at Maitimo who looked like he wanted to pick him up and run for the hills.

Fëanáro was about to go over the edge with what would have undoubtedly been a string of insults to remember, when Nerdanel put a hand on his arm and in what was more of a stage whisper, everyone could hear, said.

"Whatever do you have against Nolofinwë? I seem to recall you being quite fond of him during all those orgies that we used to organize."

At that Fëanáro looked like he was planning out some form of escape. Amongst the children the reactions ranged from stunned silence to complete disinterest depending on age. Maitimo's face had turned the same color as his hair and he quickly snatched his hand away from Findekáno. 

Findekáno's eyes had become even bigger if that was possible.

"But isn't Grandfather Finwë your dad too? Aren't you and my dad... You know?" He squeaked out.

"That child of Indis' is of no relation to me." Fëanáro muttered as he walked away with a confused Ambarussa still clinging to his back.

Everyone else stood silently and watched his retreating back, tiny redhead included. Seeing his favorite person leaving, Curufinwë took off after his father with a disdainful sniff at everyone else.

"Well that was shocking!" Tyelkormo burst out just as a plastic bag came blowing their way.

Gothmog's eyes widened and before Makalaure could do anything he found himself being lurched off the ground as Gothmog flew backwards trying to escape the bag.

Findekáno was the quickest thinker and chased the offending piece of rubbish down. After a bit of jumping around, he grabbed the bag and walked up to Gothmog who was being sung to by a shaking Makalaure. Findekáno wadded the bag up and held it out in his fist towards the horse. Gothmog carefully stretched his long neck out and tentatively sniffed Findekáno's hand. Being convinced that nothing was out to get him, he then tried to take Findekáno's hand off, but not before Maitimo grabbed his smaller cousin out of the way and Makalaure slapped him in the chest.

"That is more than enough excitement for you, you big brute." Makalaure hummed to him as he lead him away followed by Nerdanel and her Ambarussa. 

Meanwhile, Findekáno stared up at Maitimo with complete unveiled adoration.

"Thank you so much! He might have taken my whole arm off if you hadn't helped!"

"Well seeing as you probably would have done anything to save one of my limbs, it was the least I could do." Maitimo replied as he felt himself becoming lost in the sapphire depths of Findekáno's eyes.

"If you two are done staring at each other like lovesick puppies could we please steal the golf cart? I want ice cream." Tyelkormo butted in, Carnister nodding vigorously.

Maitimo heaved a long suffering sigh and started walking to where it was parked. He, being even taller than Fëanáro, was the only one who could pass for being old enough to drive one without arousing suspicion. 

Seeing Maitimo's defeat, the three younger boys let out cheers at their good fortune and piled into the golf cart.

 

ÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞ

 

Saturday morning dawned with the sun behind a blanket of clouds. The threat of rain hung heavily over the Horse Park just waiting for the most inopportune time to thoroughly soake everything.

Fëanáro was very optimistic as he walked the course that morning. Gothmog had schooled fantastically yesterday, never touching a single fence. Maitimo and his new shadow, Findekáno, hadn't had much to do other than sit and watch, every now and then raising something.

Suddenly, almost all too soon, it was time to get on and head to the warm up area. By now there was a light drizzle, but nothing to be too concerned about as of yet.

Gothmog looked proud as a king when Fëanáro approached him to get on, black coat groomed to perfection, white boots on all four legs, clean white saddle pad with an embroidered eight pointed star and a black and red crocheted ear bonnet also sporting an eight pointed star. 

Fëanáro wore perfectly polished black boots, skin tight white pants (Nerdanel always seemed to to have something to say about those), a long sleeved red shirt under a black and red safety vest with a built in air bag in case of a fall and a helmet with a black and red satin cover.

Nerdanel looked up at him seriously, red hair slightly mussed from the humidity, "be careful out there and please whatever you do don't let your guard down!"

"Don't worry! I'll be just fine. In fact, I'll let you have the watch after stadium tomorrow." Fëanáro smiled down at her cheekily as he snapped the strap from his vest to his saddle. 

"Either way you owe me a Rolex for putting me through this again." She said with a smirk although her green eyes yet betrayed her worry.

Upon reaching the warm up area Fëanáro and Gothmog preformed just enough to loosen up and get excited for the coming test. Gothmog was barely controllable, Fëanáro was straining just to keep the horse at a reasonable pace. Then out of nowhere, Gothmog decided that it would be much more fun if he started bucking. Fëanáro just smiled and shook his head as he worked on staying on as this wasn't the first time Gothmog had pulled a stunt like this.

"Fëanáro, you have two minutes." The starter yelled as Fëanáro and Gothmog came barreling past, Fëanáro grunting in answer.

"One minute."

Fëanáro began to circle the three-sided startbox.

"Thirty seconds."

Deep breaths.

"Fifteen seconds."

He bent down to check his stopwatch.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five," 

He now entered the box.

"Four, three, two, one, have a great ride!"

Gothmog seemed to rock his weight back onto his haunches before launching forward and springing into a gallop, ears pointed ahead, charging down to the first jump.

After the first jump the course became a sort of blur due to the massive amounts of adrenaline that were coursing through both their bodies. Gothmog seemed to have grown wings, so effortless were his movements. Fëanáro started with a look of grim determination soon to be replaced with an ever widening smile as the course progressed. And eventually he even laughed aloud for despite Gothmog's antics earlier, he could have almost described the ride as easy.

That is until just after the Land Rover Landing. Both horse and rider had an almost fey look in their eyes as they successfully completed the question through the water. Fëanáro letting out a triumphant whoop as they sailed through the sea of tailgater's who had collected in that area on either side of the crowd tape.

Fëanáro would never be able to determine what exactly happened next, other than Gothmog seemed to suddenly turn on him in a moment of sudden insanity. 

Everyone could see the second it happened, one moment they were galloping in perfect unison, the next moment Gothmog's eyes caught sight of something off in the distance and without thinking, he leapt to the side. There was a collective gasp from the crowd as the horse jumped over the crowd tape, heedless of his rider. 

The spectators then began to scatter as the dark thundercloud of destruction charged through them, Fëanáro shouting obscenities, Gothmog kicking out as he ran.

Eventually, Gothmog got lucky and managed to unseat Fëanáro to a sound like a gunshot as his vest was deployed. Unluckily for Fëanáro, he was thrown right into someone's grill. Even more unfortunately, the grill was in use. And perhaps the greatest misfortune was that the owner of said grill (a humorless mortuary owner by the name of Namo) began shouting curses at Fëanáro and all his kin, waving his arms about wildly, scaring Gothmog off. 

Fëanáro was on fire. 

He could feel the flames eat through his clothing and begin to caress his skin, although the heat soon became unbearable and he rolled over only to fall to the ground, still on fire.

The last thing that he saw was Nolofinwë, black hair in a mess and blue eyes bright with worry, running towards him with an ice chest which he quickly dumped the contents of over Fëanáro's thrashing form. 

Fëanáro passed out the second the ice water hit him.

 

ÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞÞ

 

He awoke to see an attractive nurse in bright blue scrubs with a name tag bearing the name "Estë", bending over him.

"See ma'am, just as I said. He's coming around now, let me just prop him up and you can talk."

Fëanáro then heard what sounded like Nerdanel saying "thank you", along with two gasps as the hospital bed was raised. 

Once he was sitting up he could see Nerdanel crouched down, comforting the Ambarussa, twin faces appearing to be on the verge of tears.

"Hush now, your father is just fine. Why don't you two go outside and wait with your brothers for a few minutes?"

Fëanáro was slightly confused until he saw the IV drip attached to his arm as well as bandages covering most of his body. Feeling something on his face, he reached up but quickly hissed in pain at the movement.

"I haven't seen the twins this scared of you since that time you forgot Telvo in the car." Nerdanel remarked dryly.

"He was asleep."

At that she scoffed.

"Poor excuse. Now tell me , what is your excuse this time?"

"I thought everything was under control." He mumbled, beginning to wish that he hadn't woken up.

At that Nerdanel sat on the bed next to him and exasperatedly said, "just please don't do it again. I'm tired of wondering if you're going to come back in one piece every time you get on".

Seeing the pleading look in her eyes he couldn't not agree.

"So I guess we sell Gothmog?"

"Please do! I don't want you getting back on him especially."

Fëanáro sighed.

"Fine! But someone is going to need to ride him for a while to calm him down a bit because I highly doubt that he will be allowed to compete at this level for a long time."

Nerdanel glared at him until she seemed to relent. She then walked to the door and opened it.

"Maitimo, Makalaure, please come in for a moment."

The two eldest sons quietly shuffled into the small room, both paler and more careworn than was probably healthy.

Fëanáro cleared his throat with some difficulty before speaking.

"Your mother and I have come to the conclusion that it would be in our best interests to sell Gothmog." 

Makalaure looked like he was about to protest until Fëanáro silenced him with a pointed look before continuing.

"That being said, someone is going to have to ride him for a while to get him to calm down and be content with life again because I'm sure he was quite rattled by the events of this morning. One of you must do this."

Unsurprisingly, Makalaure instantly brightened up.

"I can do it! He really likes me and you'll probably want him shown a bit as well?"

"Yes, but if anything, and I mean anything at all happens then I'm trusting that Nelyafinwë will take over." He said, looking pointedly at Maitimo who nodded seriously.

"Don't worry. I'm sure that between the two of us we can tame the beast."

At that Fëanáro looked like he would have clapped his hands together if it hadn't been for all the bandages, nonetheless he was pleased.

"One more thing father." Maitimo cut in. "Once we get him salable, would you consider giving a "friends and family" discount? Or at least a "thank you for dousing me in ice water when I was on fire" discount?"

"Whatever would Nolofinwë want with a horse like Gothmog?" 

"Not for Nolofinwë, Findekáno is going to be needing a young riders horse before too long and maybe he could come to Formenos and get lessons on Gothmog over the summer?" Maitimo said in a rush looking hopefully at Fëanáro.

Fëanáro considered it for a minute before answering.

"I see no problem with it, just make sure you can keep an eye on the boy and keep him out trouble."

Nerdanel looked at Maitimo for a second before smiling at him.

"I think that's a wonderful idea. But just remember, first sign of trouble and we get someone else to work with the horse."

After getting everyone to agree with her Nerdanel went to the door again to let in Curufinwë, who had been leaning against the door and who quickly bounded into the room and right onto Fëanáro's lap, much to Fëanáro's discomfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to get chapter three up before the end of the month, although I make no garuntees as I am moving the first week of June (FINALLY).
> 
> And just a reminder, I am on tumblr here   
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thefeanarion

**Author's Note:**

> Fëanor is in his early 40s  
> Maedhros is about to turn 14  
> And Maglor is 13
> 
> In chapter two Maedhros is 15  
> Maglor is 14  
> Celegorm is 12  
> Caranthir is 11  
> Curufin is 8  
> Amrod and Amras are 6  
> Fingon is 13


End file.
